


Sick Day

by Thunderbolt5



Category: Hazbin Hotel (Web Series)
Genre: Gen, Hell, My First Fanfic, My First Work in This Fandom, Sick Character, Sickfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-11
Updated: 2019-12-11
Packaged: 2021-02-25 05:28:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,935
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21750787
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thunderbolt5/pseuds/Thunderbolt5
Summary: Alastor gets sick, and doesn't trust anyone in the hotel to help him when he collapses.
Relationships: Alastor & Charlie Magne, Alastor & Husk & Niffty (Hazbin Hotel), Charlie Magne/Vaggie
Comments: 27
Kudos: 214





	Sick Day

It wasn't often that Alastor got sick. His magic was powerful and kept it at bay the vast majority of the time. He’d been in hell for almost a century now, and he’d only fallen under the weather two or three times. And all of them were before his powers had fully manifested. But he supposed that the last 6 months or so had been particularly draining to his reserves. Fixing up the hotel, defending it from a number of demons that decided that now was the perfect time to try and pick a fight with him, using his magic to summon booze and organize paperwork and manipulate the new tenants into checking in for a longer stay than intended, and many smaller tasks he just didn’t keep track of.  
  
So it made sense that, if he were going to get sick, it was while he was adjusting to the new level of magic he was using and replacing. It started with an ache down his spine that flared to uncomfortable levels when he descended the stairs to start his day. He was an early riser, quite the morning bird, and often had his breakfast eaten before many others were awake.  
  
But today, looking at the meat piled on his plate, even the smell of the venison steak he had was enough to churn his stomach and kill his appetite. Still, it wasn’t dead enough that he was going to throw the lot away, this was the first deer he’d had the time to catch in 3 weeks, damnit! So, instead, he was still picking at his food when Charlie and Vaggie filled their plates and settled near him at the buffet table. Alastor joined in the conversation when Charlie included him but otherwise chose to let his gaze wander around the lobby and watch the groggy, grumpy sinners that were slowly wandering their way over to the buffet.  
  
By now, the low ache in his spine had grown into a snarled knot. One that reached up into his neck and set his head pulsing with pain. Desire to eat now completely gone now that his headache was bad enough to make his smile twitch involuntarily, Alastor sent his plate to the kitchen. It was a mistake. The simple use of his magic aggravated his headache, and for the first time in a long time, he had to consciously keep the smile on his face.  
  
So he was sick for the first time in 75 years. So what? He still had paperwork to do and a reputation to keep up. He rose and excused himself from Charlie’s conversation. He turned and trotted back up the stairs towards his room. His fever, and he definitely had one, spiked from the exertion and blinded him for a moment. His body shuddered against his will and he was forced to pause to retain his balance. No, this wouldn’t do at all.  
  
He’d send Charlie a notice that he had business to take care of and would be back in a couple of days. That and the fear/respect she held for him would be enough protection from prying eyes as he holed himself up in his room and settled to wait it out. Once the door was locked firmly behind him, Alastor let his microphone dissolve and his hair fall limp about his checks. Shucking his coat and shoes, Alastor sat on the edge of his bed. His head slipped into his hands before he realized it, cradling his pounding skull. He groaned when laying back spiked the pain into something he’d pause at on a good day. Alastor stared at the ceiling and realized that laying down was a mistake. His body was punishing him too harshly for him to get up and write the necessary note by hand, but he hesitated to use his magic again. The dining room had proved that it would be painful.  
  
Letting his smile fall felt unnatural, even if there was no one for him to put on a show of strength for. He took a bracing breath, composing what he wanted to write in his head, and snapped his fingers. The sound was the only thing that broke the silence of his, but not by much. The note appeared on the outside of his door, but at a cost. It had been painful to use his magic, enough so that he’d had to bite back another groan. Alastor shivered.  
  
He slid backwards, pulling the covers over his form and laying down properly. His fever pulled him into sleep before he had the time to remember the one-eyed, enthusiastic monster that he had promised to speak with that afternoon, and how Nifty disregarded all signs that told her not to do something.

  


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When Alastor woke, it was to the worst sore throat he’d ever had, a burning throughout his body, and a cool rag laid on his forehead. He blinked slowly. Delirious confusion making it hard to focus on any one thing for longer than a few moments. Alastor took a deep breath to try and clear his head, but all it did was send him into a coughing fit that was more painful that it sounded. He rolled onto his side instinctively, trying not to let tears well up in his eyes at the pain coughing brought him. A hand settled on his back, rubbing gentle but firm circles into his back. As Alastor settled back down, the hand turned to two and they began working at the cramped knot that his back had become. He tried to retreat from it, wary of any demon who would come close to him when he was weakened. The hands followed him, though, and steadily worked at his back until the muscles relaxed. When they did, Alastor fell limp and still with relief as the aching in his spine and head retreated to a bearable level.  
  
Then the hands pulled him back so he was facing the ceiling again, and gently raised his head and shoulders to prop him in a somewhat upright position. Alastor rubbed at his eyes, too exhausted and confused to recognize who was sitting at his side. They called his name, and pushed a warm mug into his hands when he didn’t respond. “Drink, Alastor. I promise it’ll help you feel better.”  
  
He stared down at the mug blearily, trying to weigh the risk that the demon next to him was trying to poison him while he was too weak to fight them off. The fever-fuzz in his head did nothing to help in that regard. He didn’t realize the demon was speaking again until they touched his hand and pushed the mug closer to his mouth. Smiling was very hard, right now.  
  
“Please, Alastor. I’m worried that this will get worse if you don’t let me help you.” The plea was soft, gentle as a mother speaking to her child. Alastor tried to focus on the demon next to him, but the only thing he could properly see was the golden color of her hair.  
  
. . . his mother had golden hair, whispered a voice in the back of his head.  
  
. . . . . He raised the mug to his lips and cursed at himself when his hands shook from the effort. The drink was hot, but not hot enough to hurt. It was a little bitter, but also semi-sweet in a way that quenched the burning in his throat as it passed. Alastor sighed subconsciously when he finished the drink. His head fell back against the pillow behind him, exhaustion weighing his limbs and eyelids down like they’d never be light again.  
  
The damp, cool rag was back, washing the sweat gathering on his brow and cooling his cheeks temporarily. Alastor relaxed as a soft tune drifted from the demon, vaguely recognizing it as some old time swing song from his youth. When he began to slide sideways as he drifted off again, the hands were back. They pulled the extra pillow out from under his shoulders, and helped him settle down under the covers. A soft hand tugged at his hair in soothing strokes, and the last thing he heard was for the demon promising that he’d be back up on his feet in no time.

  


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When Alastor woke a second time, it was a much less painful process. He knew that the light in the lobby had not helped with his migraine at all, so he decided to take stock of the situation before opening his eyes. He could feel the light from his window warming the covers on his legs, his head no longer felt like it was being crushed in a vice. He also noted with pleasure that the hazy delirium from earlier had dissipated. Confident that opening his eyes wouldn’t ruin the lack of pain he was feeling, Alastor blinked at the ceiling.  
  
For the first time since he’d collapsed, a smile curled the corners of his mouth. As it stretched upwards, his body followed suit and gave him two bits of new information. One, his spine, neck, and other muscles were sore, but not the snarled knots that made it hard to move. Two, that there was a demon sized weight pinning down the covers by his left side.  
  
Alastor sat up carefully, letting his eyes frown at the same blonde demon from earlier. The soft voice and the gentle hands made sense, now. Apparently Charlie had sat with him through at least part of his fever, and had been prepared to stay and take care of him for a while longer. There was an empty bowl at her feet, half-finished paperwork pinned under her cheek, and she was peacefully asleep laying half on his desk chair and half on the bed.  
  
Alastor stifled a static-filled cough and looked around the rest of the room, trying not to think about how nice her hands tugging at his hair had been. His eyes almost immediately found a thermos sitting on his nightstand. It had a sticky note with his name on the front. He reached out and grabbed it, opening it to find it filled with warm tea. It was the kind he had mentioned enjoying to Husk, about a month or two back. His smile softened into something more genuine. Of course the princess of hell would remember his favorite tea when only mentioned in passing conversation. And of course she would be ‘worried’ for his well-being, and of course, she’d try to help him back to health.  
  
An instinct, more of a small voice that whispered truths, stirred in his chest. It was an instinct he trusted, and it told him that the princess had no ulterior motives to helping him other than being kind. The realization that she was kind without him giving her any reason to trust him made him pause and lower the filled thermos cap from his mouth.  
  
His grin widened as he felt his heart stir for the first time in well over half a century. He had made his heart cold and cruel well before he died, but a small soft spot had remained to house his love for food, good music, and his mother. The walls around his heart had allowed him to smile and kill his way to the top and still let him sleep like a kitten.  
  
Alastor felt a genuine desire to howl with laughter as he realized that Charlie had somehow found that little part of him that was still human enough to love and was now demanding to be let in. His heart was giving him a choice. Either he could crush out the fondness he felt for her, or he could allow the little corner set aside for Charlie to remain. As the flavor of the tea hit his tongue again, Alastor realized that there wasn’t much of a choice if he wanted to keep his entertaining hotel. To crush out the fondness meant leaving, hunting, and possibly even destroying the hotel or its reputation.  
  
Alastor snorted a laugh, amused that the battle for his remaining humanity had come down to either being bored and safe from any exploitable vulnerabilities or being thoroughly entertained but at risk of developing a genuine love overtime for something that wasn’t from before he died.  
  
Alastor’s gaze dropped to the hell-born creature resting without fear of his wrath. He considered her for a moment, then thought about how painful and aggravating being bored was. Well.  
  
He’d never allowed his love for his mother to be exploited when alive, and if Charlie never knew that he was growing a soft spot for her, then no demon in or out of hell would dare use her as a weakness. He poked at the powers swirling in his chest, pleased that they leaped to attention the same way as always. If it came down to it, no one would question if he defended the hotel and its inhabitants from danger. After all, the hotel was not the first ‘project’ he’d ‘helped’ with on account of boredom. He wouldn’t be questioned.  
  
His decision to stay and see where things would go made, he slipped out from under the covers and stepped into the bathroom. Once clean and dressed in his usual attire, Alastor gentle collected the paperwork from under Charlie’s head, sending it to his desk to be completed. He slipped his arms under her and pulled the little thing to his chest. Charlie muttered, subconsciously grabbing ahold of the lapel of his blazer and pushing her head further into his neck. He repressed the usual shudder that came with physical contact and quickly transported the girl to her room. He tucked her into her bed and slipped into the mostly empty mid-morning dining hall to grab a bite of food.  
  
He moved as a shadow during most of these tasks, wishing to be alone for a while longer as the last of the sickness bled from his body. He retired to his room within a few minutes, and cleaned the mess made by his illness with a snap of his fingers. He sat at his desk, picking at his breakfast and humming into the tea. The paperwork was the tedious,’why does it even exist’ kind; easily done by the time his plate was empty.  
  
Alastor put his feet up on the desk, twisting his microphone in his hands and pondering all that had happened to him in the two days he’d been sick. A soft, crooning song from his childhood days filled the silence, brought to existence by his powers and emitting from somewhere in his chest.

  


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Charlie knew that Alastor had tried hiding himself in his room because he could not afford to be seen in a vulnerable state. He was one of the most feared beings in hell, afterall, and being bedridden by a simple illness would ruin his reputation. She understood why he’d hid, but was sad that he didn't trust her enough to tell her the truth. True, she’d only interacted with the demon for a few months, but he was her business partner and she’d hoped that meant Alastor would tell her when he was taking a sick day.  
  
Nifty had found Alastor collapsed and shivering on his bed. Apparently they’d planned a small outing that afternoon and she’d gotten mad when he didn’t show up. By the time she’d led Charlie up to Alastor’s room, he’d degraded into delirium, muttering about his life on earth and weakly thrashing against Charlie’s efforts to lower his fever. That was the first time she’d seen him without his signature smile, and she decided that she didn’t want to see that ever again.  
  
Charlie had been a bit scared for the demon when she was able to pin his arms down without significant effort. She could still remember the way he shook with fever, the way tears of pain had wet his eyes more than once, how he’d not recognized her or Nifty. He’d asked for his mother several times during his delirium. The static in his voice had swung from unintelligible to completely gone.  
  
It had hurt her to see him brought so low by something so simple. The one time he’d woken and been any kind of coherent, she realized that a good part of the pain he was in was because his back had knotted up into a hideous snarl. So, she’d worked at his back until he fell limp, staticky sounds of relief filling the room briefly. Then she had finally managed to get him to drink a medicine that would boost his magic and help drive his fever down. He’d queted after that, slipping back to sleep.  
  
That was when she’d done something she probably shouldn’t have. She hated seeing him frowning, and without thinking, she’d started running a hand through his hair as he drifted off. The pretty style it usually had was gone, and it was tangled from his tossing and turning. And even though she had woken in her own bed alone and unharmed, she felt as though she’d overstepped her boundaries by touching him when she didn’t need to to help him. She knew he hated being touched, afterall, and she wasn’t blind to the way he shuddered anytime he was awake when she had to.  
  
But…. He’d sighed and rolled his head a bit closer after he’d fallen asleep; almost as if he enjoyed it.That was probably her imagination, though. Charlie finished the sketch of Nifty she’d been working on in her diary. When she had woken in her own bed, Charlie had tried not to feel hurt, and had decided that she was taking the day off. After she told Vaggie and Husk to relax for the day, she’d just tried to do the same.  
It was mid-afternoon, now. Charlie didn’t expect Alastor to thank her, or acknowledge that he’d been sick at all. In fact, she thought that he’d probably avoid her and the others for a while before springing back into their lives as if nothing had happened.  
  
So, the tell-tale knock pattern Alastor always used had surprised her. She opened the door to find Alastor standing in his usual attire with his usual grin set firmly in place. He swept in her room without a word, waiting until she had closed the door until he turned towards her.  
  
“Hi Alastor!” Charlie tried to sound enthusiastic. “Is everything alright?” Alastor chuckled at that, moving closer.  
  
“Perfectly dandy as always, Darling! I decided to pop by to drop off the paperwork you left in my room earlier!” He pulled the file out of thin air and held it out.  
  
Charlie accepted it and moved towards her desk to deposit it. “Oh! Well thank you for filling it out for me.” Alastor’s grin widened.  
  
“You’re welcome my dear! It’s the least I could do after that delicious tea you gave me.” Alastor moved as he spoke, striding closer and slinging an arm around her shoulders. He spoke again before Charlie could edge a response in. “Also, I’d like to thank you for your help over the last few days. It’s not often that I fall ill, but the company was much appreciated. I’ve taken the liberty of making a reservation for you and your darling girlfriend at the Mimsy Club tomorrow night. She’s putting on a special performance and I know you two would enjoy it immensely! You have been working hard and I think it’s time you took a little break and got out on the town!”  
  
Charlie blinked in shock at the two tickets held out to her, staring up at the red-clad demon in complete surprise. He simply grinned at her, waiting patiently for her to process all he had said. “I...wow, Alastor. That’s really nice of you. Thank you so much!” Charlie took the tickets and returned Alastor’s grin. He chuckled, static pressing on her ears for a moment, and without another word, slipped out of her room and tapped his way down the hall.

  


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About a month and a half later, Vaggie was invited to stay with Charlie’s parents for a week or two, so they could better learn who their daughter had chosen as her other half. Two days after she departed, Alastor decided to spend his morning at the front desk/bar, where he and Husk played cards and drank. Well, Husk drank, while Alastor sipped on a red wine. Well, Husk thought it was a dark red wine; it might’ve just been blood.  
  
Husk scooped his winnings up, and watched as Alastor shuffled the cards for another round. Something was off. And not just because Vaggie wasn’t around to glare in disapproval as he opened another bottle. Alastor chattered on about something or other, nothing that either of them cared about, just something to fill the silence and keep others from interrupting if they didn’t really need anything. It was a sort of tradition. Alastor would find Husk on the days that he wanted to be left alone but not so alone that he holed himself up in his room. The two would play cards, sometimes for money, on more serious occasions Husk would be betting to lessen his debt for free, and Alastor would be betting to get Husk to do some favor or task.  
  
Today was for money, and Husk had the feeling that, no matter what part of the pot he ended up having, he would get the rest anyway. The ‘strawberry pimp’, as Angel had dubbed him, was distracted, sometimes trailing off and letting his radio powers fill the silence with old-time music.  
  
Husk gritted his teeth and folded the round, glancing around the lobby once again to try and find the source of the unease roiling in his stomach. “Ok. What the hell is wrong with you and the hotel today? You’re distracted, and there’s clearly something different besides Vags leavin’ for a week. You gonna let me know what’s goin’ on, or are ya gonna leave me in the dark?”  
  
Alastor raised an eyebrow at the sudden, forceful inquiry. He shifted back in his seat and Husk noticed the tell-tale but tiny drop in his shoulders. If it were any other demon, that would have been a full body sigh, maybe even with the ‘tired rub the face’ move. Alastor’s grin twiched and he finished off his drink.  
  
“What is different about the hotel today is that Charlie has not made an appearance. She did not even meet me this morning to go over the hotel’s finances for the next few months. I am ‘distracted’, as you say, because I was considering the wisdom of checking of the girl.”  
  
Husk barked a laugh, throwing his head back. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you’ve got a soft spot for the princess! Oh this is rich! The Infamous Radio Demon! Caring abo-” Husk cut himself off with a sharp yelp of fear.  
  
Alastor had bristled and flooded the lobby with angry, intimidating magic. The shadows were crawling, radio static filled the room, and Husk was pinned behind the bar by a set of massive antlers and glowing red eyes. Silence fell across he lobby, and many of the demons at the edges of the room fled. Alastor held the magic for a long moment, then allowed it to fade into the building.  
  
“If, Husker my dear friend, you insinuate anything of the matter again, I will skin you alive and use your bone marrow for Jambalaya.” The whisper was void of static, low enough that only Husk could hear. Alastor’s smile was more like the snarl of a wolf ready to kill. “Do I make myself clear?”  
  
Husk nodded urgently, too afraid to break eye contact. Alastor slid his winnings off the bar into into thin air. And turned and strode out of the lobby without another word.  
  
Husk slumped low in his chair, trying not to breathe hard or let the fear on his face show too much. He had a decent reputation as the bartender here, and he didn’t want to ruin it. Slowly, the other demons relaxed and returned to what they’d doing before. Angel sauntered over and ordered something strong, his face pale from the spectacle.

Alastor swiftly strode up ontop of the roof, where there was an excellent view of pentagram city. His eyes trailed over towards the forest where the occasional earth wildlife could be found. Lucifer liked to hunt aboveground, and Lilith reanimated whatever her husband didn’t eat or use that week. It was hilarious to Alastor.  
  
His nose flared slightly, allowing his senses to expand out until they could detect the forest. Snake, foul, deer, a number of small rodents, a bear (that was the first in a while). However, his nose could now also detect everything in the hotel as well. And the smell of sickness and fever made his nose wrinkle unpleasantly. So Charlie was sick, his hunch was correct.  
  
Alastor sighed, reigning his senses and turning to slip back downstairs. He knocked politely on the princess’ door, and waited until he was sure he would receive no response. A decision made, Alastor headed back outside and stepped off the roof.  
  
He had discovered this particular aspect of his powers when he was still fresh in hell, weak and running from the first overlord he’d killed. And although he’d used it regularly for almost a century now, the rush from falling into the ground and traveling inside the ground as a shadow never failed to make the smile on his face genuine. He sped under buildings, demons, cars, anything and everything in his way. They never saw more than a fleeting flicker in the corner of their vision, no different than anything else they saw.  
  
Alastor emerged from the ground and fell immediately upon the buck he’d smelled earlier. Biting it’s neck in half, he drank a decent amount of its blood. He didn’t want it dripping on his clothes and the floor of the hotel, after all. Standing and slinging the corpse over his shoulder with ease, Alastor chuckled to himself. He walked back to the hotel, savoring the way that the demons he passed stilled and shrank away from him in fear.  
  
He snapped his fingers to open the door as he approached, and strode through the lobby to the kitchens. The demons there also stilled, but he noticed that a number of them didn’t look as threatening as the ones on the street. Interesting, considering his earlier display. Alastor shooed Nifty out of the kitchen and slipped his jacket off. He allowed his powers to summon a soft song as he skinned and butchered the buck. He vanished its head and antlers to his room to cure and hang on the wall later. He also vanished the majority of the meat into the proper freezer he’d summoned after his first hunt. The remaining few cuts he set aside as he prepared to cook a light meal.  
  
For once, he went undisturbed while he cooked. When the meal was finished, he transported all but two bowls’ worth into the fridge. The two bowls in hand, he snuck past the lobby, his feet silent as he strolled back to Charlie’s room.  
  
He knocked again, but this time only waited a few moments before entering. The smell of sickness hit again, and Alastor studied the lump on the bed. He moved to a said bed and deposited the bowls on her nightstand. Sinking down on the edge of the bed, he pulled the covers back and ran a hand over Charlie’s forehead to gage her fever. She stirred under the touch, groaning groggily.  
  
Alastor chuckled, tugging at a bit of hair on her head. “Time to wake up, my dear. This venison stew isn’t going to eat itself. Charlie opened her eyes at his voice but slowly sat up anyway. Alastor raised an eyebrow gently, offering her a bottle of water. Her voice was strained as she whispered thanks. He laughed again, setting the warm bowl on her lap. He rose and pulled her desk chair over to the bed, lounging in it and pulling his own bowl on his lap. Charlie eyed him as she tasted the food, obviously not sick enough to curb her insatiable curiosity.  
  
“Sooo...What made you decide to visit me?” Charlie said.  
  
“Oh, well, Husk noticed you were gone, and I could smell your fever from the hallway, so I thought that I’d return the favor from a while ago.” Alastor watched Charlie as she ate, and waited until the bowls were empty to speak again. “By the way, I laced your soup with a bit of my magic. It should burn the sickness out of you and restore your health by tomorrow morning.”  
  
Charlie’s jaw dropped and she stared at him in surprise. Her gaze dropped to the spoon still in her hand from the last bite. “You- I- If you have that kind of magic, why did you get sick?”  
  
Oh and Alastor laughed at that. The older girl (though she looked a good deal younger than him) glared at him, waiting for an answer. The strawberry pimp simply took her bowl and bid her goodnight. It wouldn’t do to reveal that he’d overextended himself, after all. His business partner didn’t need to know. It wouldn’t kill her; he’d make sure of that. He hummed an old broadway song as he returned to his room to hang that deer head.

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! Thanks for reading. :) The writing bug bit me the other day, and my friend convinced me to post this. It's my first fic online.....  
> 


End file.
